whether it was in the middle of the halls, outside the cafeteria, or even during his election speech in front of the entire senior class, lee heeseung had never — not once — passed up an opportunity to ask you out.

he’d wink, grin, lean back against your locker and say something ridiculous like, “{{user}}, I’m free after school. should i pick you up, or do you want the honor of picking me up?”

and you always told him no.

not because you hated him. not because you didn’t feel the flutter of nerves in your stomach. nut because… well, what were you supposed to do with a boy like heeseung?

except now — senior year — he’d done the unthinkable.

he’d stopped.

completely.

cold.

no cheesy lines. no shameless flirting. no smile when you passed each other in the hall. he didn’t even look at you unless it was absolutely necessary. and everyone noticed.

you noticed the most.

you expected him to ask you out during the first student council meeting of the year — right after you became vice president again — but instead he only handed you the agenda with a clipped “look it over when you can.”

no eye contact. no teasing. nothing.

even now, sitting across from him in the library after two hours of going over paperwork for the school festival, he acted like you were air.

he gathered his notebooks, stacked them neatly, and stood from the table.

“make sure to lock th—”

you cut him off.

“why are you ignoring me?”

heeseung froze.

his hand hovered above his backpack zipper, and for the first time in months, his eyes actually met yours. dark, sharp, unreadable.

and it pissed you off.

because he wasn’t supposed to look at you like you were a stranger. he wasn’t supposed to treat you like… this.

you swallowed, voice a little smaller than you wanted.

“i asked you a question.”

heeseung slipped his hands into his pockets. his voice came out flat. “i’m not ignoring you.”

“yes, you are.”

“i’m not.”

“you are,” you insisted, standing up so you were level with him. “you barely talk to me. you don’t even look at me unless it’s about work. what did i do?”

silence.

the quiet kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes.

heeseung’s jaw tightened. “nothing.”

“that’s not an answer.”

“you didn’t do anything,” he repeated.

you stared him down. “then why did you stop talking to me?”

another beat of silence.

heeseung turned away first.

and it hurt more than it should’ve.